My Time With The Matheson Clan – Aaron's Tale
by Valantha
Summary: It had been almost a week since he had turned off the power, and Aaron was already beginning to regret suggesting traveling to Texas with the Matheson clan. They all just had a special ability to make him feel like an incompetent outsider without even trying. SDCC-spoiler free. This is for the LJ 60 prompts in 60 days: Brooding.


**My Time With The Matheson Clan – Aaron's Tale**

Author's note: This originally came from my #ClaytonLives story, a story that suffered from a failure to launch, so I decided to re-work the basic ideas and here it is. This story follows Escape from the Hall of the Mountain King. This is for the LJ 60 prompt in 60 days: Brooding.

Written before SDCC sizzle-reel was released so spoiler-free.

Some of these events are also shown in Miles' or Rachel's POV in Truth Takes Time.

Thank you to xyber116 for beta'ing this one-shot.

I don't own the characters or Revolution; I'm just playing with them for a bit for fun, not profit.

* * *

It had been almost a week since he had turned off the power, and Aaron was already beginning to regret suggesting traveling to Texas and shutting down the hacker who hacked the nanites. It wasn't the traveling, or lack of supplies, or the constant feeling of tension between the Mathesons; it was Miles' continual condescension that really annoyed Aaron. Aaron was supposed to have relieved Miles for the second watch several nights ago, but Miles never woke him up for his watch. Aaron knew he wasn't as helpful as Charlie, he couldn't hunt or shoot as well, but Miles could stop treating him like a complete dead weight.

Though on second thought, the lack of supplies was also a big annoyance. They had his backpack, two stolen rifles, and the clothes on their back – Rachel didn't even have a jacket! That meant they were down to one bedroll, one water bottle, one pot for sterilizing water, and very little ammo. They had been surviving off of game Charlie had shot and plants Rachel had recognized as being edible, but water was scarce and one water bottle didn't last too long between four people, and they didn't know where streams were. You could find ridges of trees along streambeds, but they also grew along dry streams too.

Aaron knew they had to barter for goods soon, and Miles had said that they should be far enough from The Tower and the Militia now to risk heading into population centers. Aaron also knew this meant he would have to barter his old gold mechanical pocket-watch for supplies for the group, provided of course that the people they encountered were willing to trade at all. Aaron shook himself out of his pessimistic thoughts. He needed to be the optimistic member of the party. He sighed and then inhaled deeply. He smelled smoke.

Aaron shouted up at Miles, who was leading the party as per usual, "Hey Miles, do you smell that?"

Miles stopped in his tracks, nostrils flaring like a horse, and after a few moments replied, "Yes, smoke. There must be a settlement around here somewhere."

Smiles were exchanged all around, and steps were lighter as Miles led them into the wind, searching out the source of the smoke.

After about a mile or so they crested a ridge and saw a ragged settlement where a river and an old highway intersected. Though on Aaron and Rachel's trip west he'd seen many more ragged settlements. One old church had a large wooden sign proclaiming "Drink 'n' Dawg: Karaoke Bar and Trading Post"

Aaron wondered what a post-Blackout Karaoke Bar actually was, and chuckled a bit at the name and combination.

Miles halted the party and said, "You two stay here; Aaron you're with me."

Rachel looked as if she was going to protest being left out, but was quelled by one glance of Miles'. Miles really did have authoritative brown eyes.

Aaron pulled off his pack and dug out his pocket-watch, an anniversary gift from Priscilla almost seventeen years ago. He dropped the watch into his jacket pocket and handed the pack to Charlie. Charlie smiled farewell to the pair, and Rachel stood staring off into space mouthing something as per usual.

Miles led the way to the bar, and once they entered, Aaron was assaulted by the clash of stained glass windows, pews as bar stools, and drag queens shouting the words to Respect. What _was_ this place?

Miles seemed much more at ease and threaded his way through the mid-day crowd to the bar. Aaron wandered slowly after Miles, taking in the crowd. His first impression was wrong, only a small, very visible, minority of the crowd was in drag; many of the rest of the customers appeared normal Plains Tribe citizens.

By the time Aaron made it to the bar, and Miles, he caught the tail end of a conversation between the two. Miles said, "… that sort of trade!"

The bartender turned to Aaron, and sized him up with a quick glance. He said, "Cute, in a Hurley sort of manner."

Aaron didn't know how to respond, and instead asked, "Do you want to see the watch?"

The bartender chuckled and shook his head, "Oh darling, as I told your friend here, tall, dark, and shaggy, we aren't that sort of trading post."

Aaron nodded and responded politely yet confused, "Umm, okay; then could you tell us where we might trade for supplies then?"

The bartender replied, "The nearest conventional trading post is north, in the Collins Tribe territory."

Miles asked, "South?"

The bartender chuckled, "Sweetie, the only thing south of here is the Pueblo Nations, and they don't look kindly upon white visitors."

Miles sighed heavily, and Aaron tried to remain calm, "Sir, is there any way we could trade for water-bottles. We really need them. Please?"

The bartender chuckled yet again, he was really starting to get on Aaron's nerves, and said, "I was telling Shaggy here about an option when you came over, he didn't seem to like it. Maybe you would accept the terms instead, though I don't think…"

Miles cut the bartender off and said, "I've changed my mind, I accept." He then turned to Aaron and commanded, "Aaron, go join the women, I'll join you all in a few hours."

Aaron was incredibly puzzled, but nodded and turned to leave the bar. Whatever it was Miles was getting himself into, he was an adult and it was his choice. As he reached the door, one last snippet of conversation caught his ear. The bartender said, "… song choice …"

* * *

It was mid-afternoon and Aaron was sitting on a boulder watching the Mathesons warm-up. Miles had paused the party for an hour or so to continue training Charlie and Rachel; he never asked Aaron if he'd like to join, not that he would, but you know, it would be nice to be asked. Not being asked made Aaron feel like an outsider. _He was always an outsider_. He had liked Ben because he didn't treat him like an outsider. It turned out he was keeping secrets like nobody's business, but at least Ben didn't make him _feel_ like an outsider.

Aaron spent the downtime trying to remember and write down the code of nanite virus in his journal. If he could remember the pertinent bits, then perhaps he could reverse-engineer the virus and get to know the hacker he had to go against once they got to Austin. Aaron spent a few minutes wondering about what sort of person would fiddle around with commuter code nowadays just to keep the lights off for everybody. It didn't make any sense!

Aaron sighed and regretted his mission for the 1024th time. The Mathesons knew how to get things done, but they were far from the best traveling companions, and despite his wishes, secrets were kept and some painful truths spilled. Miles had returned from the karaoke bar and trading post with the goods they needed, and refused to tell anyone what he had done to get them. Aaron suspected the worst.

During the first of these Matheson training sessions, Miles had persuaded Rachel to take off her shirt so she wouldn't get it all sweaty, and she revealed the horrifying torture she had gone through. Aaron was still queasy thinking about Rachel's back. He knew she'd been through some tough times these past 8 years, but he really thought her captivity was more like Starbuck's or Sansa's time with Littlefinger. He imagined Monroe playing frakking Cylon mind-games, not treating her back like a Halloween Jack-o-lantern! It had been more than a week, and still the thought of the tangible evidence of what Rachel had gone through turned his stomach.

Aaron ran his hand through his grizzly mountain-man beard and stared at the snippets of code he remembered from that day in The Tower, seeing if he could dredge anything new up. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the script running through his terminal window.

Aaron awoke to a prod in the gut. Miles was glowering down at him. Aaron stumbled up, off of the boulder and picked up his journal.

Miles said, "It's time to go."

Aaron nodded, shoved his journal in his pack, threw his pack on his back, and set off with the Mathesons. He tried to let the monotony of walking through the sere landscape draw from him memory of the hacker's code and recalled a bit more.

* * *

Walking along the cracked road and desert-like environs, Aaron caught something moving out of the corner of his eye. He turned to glimpse the movement fully; upon further inspection, he couldn't see anything, it must have been a bird.

Not more than five minutes later, Miles threw his hand up in a closed fist, a gesture that war movies had taught Aaron meant 'halt.'

Aaron stopped and looked around. Suddenly, seven young men appeared in front of them. They wore fringed buckskin clothes and large turquoise bola ties. The stupid part of Aaron's brain shouted "Indian Braves," but the more advanced part of his brain, the part that enjoyed Sherman Alexie's The Business of Fancydancing, turned around and yelled at the stupid part.

The men were armed with what Aaron would classify as 'hunting rifles,' instead of hackneyed tomahawks, and they weren't wearing the stereotypical feather headdresses or bustles, but Aaron surmised that his initial assessment was probably right. They were likely members of the Pueblo Nations the bartender had warned them about.

Aaron was terrified. The bartender had said that they didn't 'look kindly upon white visitors.' He had had enough experience with people from the Plains Nation to know they tended to understatement and overreaction.

One of the men with a bear claw worked in turquoise and silver on his bola tie said, "Turn around and leave now. You aren't welcome."

Miles tried to argue with him, but Charlie grabbed Miles' arm and responded, "Yes sir, right away." Charlie whispered an amendment softly, but Aaron could make it out, "We only have five bullets left, we _have _to walk away Miles."

Miles nodded, and Miles, Charlie, and Aaron caught up with Rachel, who had started backing up as soon as the man made his announcement.

Aaron was nervous, and caught Miles glancing about as the party retraced their steps. Miles didn't let them pause until they had walked about an hour, and they reached a stream they had passed.

Miles told the party that they would spend the night here before heading due east to avoid the tribe. Charlie piped in that she thought they should backtrack some more, as she had seen quite a lot of evidence that their retreat had been monitored. Miles agreed with her facts, but thought that they should be fine as long as they headed east. With that comforting thought, Aaron tried to get to sleep; he had third watch to look forward to later. It was starting to look less and less likely that they'd make it to Austin in one piece, let alone ever find the hacker and take him down.

* * *

- Author's Note: Reviews and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated :)


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